


Well... that wasn't on the schedule.

by EmarisLaughsManiacally



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Coffee Addict Tony Stark, Fake Science, First Kiss, M/M, Manipulative Peter, Mild Language, Peter acts on his crush, Protective Avengers, RDJ is Jude Law's man crush, Surprise Kissing, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony actually stops talking, but in a good way, recovering alcoholic Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmarisLaughsManiacally/pseuds/EmarisLaughsManiacally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thursdays suck and this one is no better, but Tony's determination to get coffee also gets him something else.<br/>______</p><p>“I turned off the pot like, ten minutes ago.” Tony blanched and jerked his head up to look at the man. </p><p>Exactly eighteen responses fought to the death in his head for a chance to leap out of his throat and flay Peter where he stood, but Peter had moved from the rear counter to the island where Tony was sitting at. He still wanted to give him a piece of his mind, but he instead measured the emotions in Peter’s eyes.</p><p>Annoyance: Dissipated. Amusement: No change. [No Data]: Significantly elevated.</p><p>Ok, whatever the fuck that meant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own much beyond my car.
> 
> First story, please enjoy.

Tony hated days like these. He checked his watch. 

Tony hated _Thursdays_ like these. So maybe it wasn’t about Thursdays and more about the _third_ day.

He blinked when he realized the elevator had opened to the communal floor and stepped through the living room and angled towards the left, heading for the kitchen area. The massive dining table was towards the rear of the spacious room on an elevated platform and most of the Avengers had gathered there for breakfast, chatting in the low, pleasant tones of a slow morning. Agent and Clint were participating from the kitchen where they seemed to be cooking, which was a shame because the only thing Tony wanted was some motherfucking coffee. 

The obnoxiously large coffee pot had maybe half a cup’s worth of coffee in it and the wall that had been custom designed to hold about one hundred K-cups was full, _except_ for the row that was dedicated to Tony’s favorite flavors. 

No, it wasn’t the end of the world but _still_. He emptied the pot into a mug Agent wordlessly placed in his hands to keep him from bumping into them in the kitchen and prepped the pot to brew again. 

The mug was black and said ‘A hot cup of awesome’ in a speech bubble over an image of a smug Deadpool. Who the fuck had brought it into the tower?

Fucking Thursdays.

As another jab in the eye, someone -he speared Bucky with a glare- had placed a grubby sticker over Tony’s K-cup row with Oscar the Grouch. He didn’t bother to remove it.

Tony glanced at his already mostly empty mug and grabbed a random K-cup, set it in place, and made a childish hand gesture of 'gimme' at Clint who only rolled his eyes and pulled down another mug for him. He finished his coffee and checked his watch. Five hours left. He’d take -double checked the K-cup he had swiped- the Hawaiian kona kapa coffee and the entire damn pot back down to the workshop and get the last of his project together before he had to close up shop. He had to get out and get to sleep in five hours, otherwise he might slip into a groove and reach his ninety six hour limit and be locked out of his workshop for two days.

Ever since Steve convinced Jarvis two months ago to lock Tony out of his workshop after 96 hours of non-stop working, Tony had begun to feel rushed in his own space. Before, he would stay in his workshop for days, sometimes just putzing around and accidentally making awesome, but now… 

But now… he lost his trail of thought for a moment.

Tony took the kona coffee from the machine and tested it. Not bad.

But now it just felt like there were eyes on him all the time, Steve scowling when Tony slept in his lab at night, Pepper smiling at him with worry when she mentioned he hadn’t taken a shower in a while, Jarvis spying on him for the Avengers after Fury had some asshole rewrite some of the AI’s programming, Bruce coming into the shop with a plate of food. Even Peter, who paralleled his work ethic by constantly swinging out on patrol or tinkering with his own gadgets, would drop though Tony’s balcony first and helpfully mention sleep was a great idea on his way to his own quarters.

Tony looked up from staring down the coffee pot and raked his eyes over the people at the dining table. He knew that they had toned down their already quiet morning when he had gotten off the elevators and couldn't keep a scowl from creeping onto his face. No one had greeted him and he felt a little cheated, there were perhaps ten potentially venomous responses already prepared in his head had anyone said hello. But hey, it seemed like they had already heard a few.

Two months ago his work was excellent and perfect, so what if he sometimes crashed on the table or the cot -that had been removed, along with his personal coffee maker- in his own space? Taking breaks for sleep and showering also caused breaks in his greatness. Oh, and eating, he thought belatedly. Sometimes he would come back to his workshop and have no idea what the hell he had been doing until he asked Jarvis to roll out his notes so he could waste another hour or two building up momentum again. Another side effect was that Tony was even _more_ focused on his work and hadn’t really hung out with the other Avengers outside of a distress call. Even accidentally missed an Avengers charity fundraiser last week.

Quite frankly, he had been in a perpetually foul mood for weeks now.

The third days were the worst. 

Jarvis would ask him if he would like to sleep at exactly 48 hours of working and every time Tony heard it, he saw red. Tony knew his limits and couldn’t give a fuck about them. His ideas, his _babys_ had to get out and his friends just wouldn’t leave it alone. Maybe it had something to do with his last alcoholic bender five months ago, or the mandatory AA meetings, or the substance abuse classes. He didn't know or care whatever the reason was.

He checked his watch again and frowned, he’d lost almost half an hour taking a shower to come up and get some damn coffee. Tony glared at the table again. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered, Pepper wasn’t even here, but then again _Tattletale Steve_ would probably have tried to… 

Didn’t matter. 

Tony took another swig and ran a few numbers in his head again to distract himself. He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the results from his most recent simulation. The maximum tensile strength of the new ultralight cable was less than he had needed by a few points. Something had to be adjusted.

Sip. 

The materials were perfect for what he needed and he didn't want to change them, and Natasha’s specifications required the cable at its current width… He tossed back the last bit of coffee and decided the cable just needed a different structure, honestly why hadn't he fiddled with that before? Tony planted himself on a stool, hunched over his absurdly large phone and brought up a small rendering of the material and re-examined its weave, running several patterns in his head that didn’t compromise it’s flexibility. It came to him like water flowing around a rock, paced and easy so he could ‘see’ it as he adjusted his work. This one was going to be used in parachutes, survival gear, -Tony estimated it’s maximum flexibility- hell, this could be used in textiles. Maybe even Luke Cage’s clothes he mused.

Tony looked up at the coffee pot and waited for it to beep, his internal clock telling him it was close to ready.

At almost empty, it wasn’t close to ready. 

Peter stood next to it, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and was staring at Tony. His expression was a mixture of amusement, annoyance and… Tony tilted his head, quite familiar with the third emotion but confused as to why it was on the younger man’s face. At thirty eight Tony had received similar looks from the many people that had graced his bed. 

But.

Peter.

Shy, nerdy Peter’s expression was most certainly shaded with an interest that seemed just shy of lust. Had he fallen asleep somewhere and dipped into a dream?

Tony looked at the dining table where the Avengers had eased into an amicable conversation, Clint and Agent had laden the table with appetizing culinary inventions, and Sam was trying to convince the table that the Avengers desperately needed a vampire attack plan and everyone was trying to politely not laugh. Well, everyone except for Cap and Bucky.They shared a look and encouraged Sam to ignore Clint and continue with his vampire plan and oh, did he have a zombie plan?

Okay, so it wasn’t _not_ normal, but he didn’t think he was asleep.

Tony couldn't process the expression on Peter’s face and make something with it. Draw a conclusion. Formulate a response. He blinked and looked back at the coffee pot. Sixty eight hours of no sleep. Sleep deprivation occasionally caused hallucinations he knew, but it had never been a problem for the inventor. 

Fucking Thursdays. Goddamn coffee.

Had he pushed the button to make it brew? Had he asked Jarvis? Tony frowned and looked back down at his phone. The new schematic was complete. He tried to do something with _that_ information but the expression on the twenty two year old’s face was statistically very unlikely to have ever been directed at Tony and _those_ numbers just about shook him to make them relevant.

“I turned off the pot like, ten minutes ago.” Tony blanched and jerked his head up to look at the man. 

Exactly eighteen responses fought to the death in his head for a chance to leap out of his throat and flay Peter where he stood, but Peter had moved from the rear counter to the island where Tony was sitting at. He still wanted to give him a piece of his mind, but he instead measured the emotions in Peter’s eyes.

Annoyance: Dissipated. Amusement: No change. [No Data]: Significantly elevated.

Ok, whatever the fuck that meant. 

Tony had had a moment to temper his anger and demanded to know why Peter had shut off the coffee maker after Tony had set it.

The young adult only shrugged, leaned down, placed his elbows on the marble, rested his chin in his hands, and gave Tony a patient smile.

“You just had two cups and you’re about to go to bed in four hours, drinking more right now is just going to make you dehydrated.” Peter reached for Tony’s cup and slowly slid it towards himself. 

Tony’s eyes followed his empty mug. This one had a drawing of a woman in classic pinup style. It must have been Bucky’s mug. She was dressed in a full, modest yet feminine uniform and was riding a missile. Her destination was on the other side of the mug and Tony wasn’t really paying attention anyway because he really wanted to know how Peter had deduced his schedule.

“We already have two spies.” Shit, that came out more sullen than accusing. 

“You always go to bed fourteen hours before the limit.” Peter said it so casually that he almost missed that Peter had relinquished an actual answer with actual information voluntarily. The man was gregarious, open and trusting with his team, but Peter had a habit of deflecting questions with more questions or not-answers. More a reflex than intentional, the team had learned that it was just how the man worked and let it lie.

But what he had just said, in the way he had. It was… it was like working someone else’s formula and finding a piece that didn’t fit. You can't just take it out, you have to know why they put it there, maybe it was an accident or maybe you didn't run it through right. But the one thing about checking someone’s work was that you always had to point out the error.

“So you _have_ been watching me.” Tony managed to lace his accusation with anger. He was a recovering alcoholic, not a five year old with a nap schedule.

Peter sucked in this lower lip thoughtfully and his fingers stroked the rim of Tony’s mug. The inventor looked at the mug again. Peter’s fingers were stroking the spot on the mug where Tony’s lips had been. Something in his brain fizzed and Tony’s eyes darted back to look at Peter just to make sure he was still awake and Peter wasn’t suddenly Jude Law or an agent of Cthulhu. 

“You’ve been-” Peter licked his lips and flicked his eyes to the table where the team was still chatting. “Tony, you’ve been taking care of your physical health very well.” He said it diplomatically in his familiar way, a truth without being _the_ truth. 

He knew Peter was trying to help, he did, but Tony was struggling to stay pissed about the damn coffee and not the fact that yet again, someone was trying to be his parent. He’d had his fill of shitty ‘parenting’. 

“Yeah, it’s fucking wonderful, right now though I want my oil.” Yeah, the glare felt right but he took a sharp breath through his teeth to keep from raising his voice. “So if you could just hit the button, Mrs. Doubtfire, that’d be peachy.” He’d said it glibly and bent over his phone again, listening to see if the man moved. 

He didn’t. “You haven’t really talked to anyone in a while.” 

No shit, they'd thrown his rhythm and it was still a fucking pain. He had really nothing he wanted to say most days anymore and stuffed his therapists 'depression' talk back down. “Jarvis, turn it back on and leave it on.” He scraped the last three minutes from his mind with a squeegee like it was excess industrial lubricant and looked over the schematic again. 

The weave looked solid and from the percentages that kept springing up, the maximum tensile strength should have easily bypassed his requirements. Excellent. He jabbed a few commands into his phone and set the blueprint to run through several simulations to double check. With the pleased feeling that had crept into him though, he was positive the results would be satisfactory and he’d only need to send his work to manufacture afterwards. 

Now, about making the cable useable for Powerman’s clothing. Hmm. Maybe not that specific blend, the material didn’t really need to be quite that strong.

“Tony.” 

He’d have to reduce the width almost eighty two percent, and he had to replace two of the ingredients because at that width, they would be too brittle.

“Tony.” 

He was ignoring Peter. Maybe he'd go away. Tony huffed.

‘Bye, Felicia!’

Would he be able to find a dye that bonded with it? It would naturally be a dark gray otherwise. Maybe Powerman wouldn’t care, he’d swum through molten metal and lost his clothes before. Tony paused for a minute, what was the average temperature of lava?

“It’s kinda awesome watching you work, Tony.” 

… well, he didn't have to keep ignoring the guy.

“That’s because I’m awesome.” He punched another command with a satisfied smirk and let his new program search through materials that met his requirements. It would bring up a large list, but he could include additional limiting factors later.

“But I know you’re already done.” Peter had his chin on his palm again and Tony measured him again.

Amusement: Diminished, but present. [No Data]: Holding. New variable: Admiration. Level: High. Again, not unusual _on someone else_.

“Maybe. But there’s still a few things I want to do.” Tony had a moment of inspiration and glanced at Peters chest and shoulders. What a terrible shirt. A sallow green, it had the Daily Bugle's logo on it. Tony mentally measured the normal spacing of the thicker ‘web’ decorating the Spiderman suit to gauge how much material he would need, but if he could narrow the spacing enough… Tony looked back down at his phone and made a few notes. If the space between the black 'webbing' was narrow enough, his cable -the webbing- would act like chain mail and keep the man from getting stabbed all the way through while not interfering with his mobility.

“You always do, but wouldn’t you rather go to bed?” 

Tony was very aware that his finger was slowly grinding down to stop typing, but he couldn’t make it keep going, and why the fuck had Peter said it like that? 

He didn’t look up, staring at his finger as hovered over the glass of the phone. Peter had said it innocently, a genuine question but the pause after he had said ‘rather’ and then the slight emphasis on the word ‘bed’ had him confused again. No, he decided. Not innocent.

He read an abbreviated note on his phone and knew he was awake still. 

Tony didn't have to take the factors and add them together, he _knew_ what they meant but he had never imagined that Peter would... When the hell had this started? You don’t just wake up with something like this. Tony thought back on how Peter always came back from crime fighting and visited the workshop first. No, on second thought, it was his de facto way of entering the building in general. Always with something to say or staying to work on his own tech in - his head fizzed again. Peter had his own table in a corner of _Tony’s_ workshop. _When_ had - _how_ had that happened?

Tony added the facts together just in case, and it was like the sum had a blinking Las Vegas sign over it. 

Was Peter aware of it? Was he subconsciously projecting? 

Tony looked up, some sharp, pithy comment on his lips but it never materialized. He just watched the younger man stare at his lips longer than necessary and then look back at Tony’s eyes. Back at his lips. Peter slightly sucked in his own lip, an unconscious move.

“ _Oh._ ” Peter was aware and was trying to be subtle.

A small, surprised twitch and Peter’s blue eyes were locked on Tony’s a little worried and a little anxious now.

“ _Oh._ ” Tony said again, less amazed and more understanding. Peter _was_ aware and thought he was hiding it.

Years of flirting and the words in Tony’s mouth dissolved and reformed into something like honey. “Like I said, I have other stuff I have to do.” Sometimes flirtatious inflection for him was like lovingly painting a picture and other times it was like throwing paint onto a canvas. This was the latter.

Peter was clever and quick, but just how shy was he? How much in tune with himself? 

His eyes narrowed like he was gauging Tony’s behavior, and in a moment of panic, Tony looked back down to check his notes. 

Ok, still awake.

He stayed very still as he heard, saw, felt, fucking _sensed_ Peter lean close into Tony’s personal space and whisper low and careful into his ear.

“Yanno. Sometimes I see you so focused on what you’re doing and I want to stand right behind you. Watch your hands work. Sometimes...” There was a wet sound like he was licking his lips.

Error. 

Error.

Okay. To be fair, he had started it but in the panic of his brain there was a tiny Tony falling over and he dimly acknowledged that yes, there was a mental image of ‘critical malfunction’ next to several exclamation marks and a klaxon frantically ringing in his head and who was this person and what had he done with Peter? 

Tony looked past Peter’s shoulder and read the name of Sam’s cereal out loud like a curse. How was he still awake? How was this not a dream?

The huff of breath from Peter’s laugh blew tantalizingly close to Tony’s ear and Tony made a noise in his throat. It was like static and cotton and clouds had been stuffed between his ears.

Peter’s whisper was a little quieter and Tony’s eyes darted over to the table suddenly. No one had noticed how close he was to Tony. Wait. No. Jesus. Steve. A bright red and yellow flashcard written in crayon snapped into his mind with the words ‘super hearing’ and he was inexplicably alarmed. Steve was staring with an intense look on his face and Tony knew he was wondering if he should intervene. But Cap didn't know that this was actually a mild hallucination and there was no reason to end it.

“Sometimes I want to put my hands in your hair and lick your neck just to see if you’ll stop.” Peter’s naked cheek grazed Tony’s jaw and caught only slightly against his stubble.

Jesus _Christ_.

Steve’s face was quickly turning pink and like Tony, was the perfect picture of shock. He looked painfully pole-axed. Awesomely astounded. Soundly stunned. 

Tony’s mind was barking in circles chasing down synonyms and ripping them to pieces because he was pretty sure there shouldn’t be a word for what the hell was happening.

Peter was shy and said things like 'shucks' or 'gee'. He would rub his head when he didn’t have an answer and bury his face in his hands when he got embarrassed.

“Hey, Tony.” It was like Peter’s voice was the only thing keeping him afloat. But was he anchored in reality?

He didn’t manage a word on his first attempt or even his second. “What?” Several others at the table were now facing them curiously and Steve hadn’t recovered fully just yet. 

“Look at me.” Did he know the others were watching? Tony thought no.

He could almost hear his spine creaking with how slowly he turned. “You’re really close.” Was the only thing he could think to say. He just had a question to ask, but what was it?

Peter’s eyes crinkled with a quiet laugh and he was so close that it was all that Tony could see. Uh… something, something important...

“Yeah. I am.” He leaned in and as his nose brushed Tony’s cheek, as his lips pressed against Tony’s, all sound and light and feeling was overwhelmed like he’d been engulfed in a thick fog.

Peter tasted sweet, like chocolate.

It registered with Tony after a few moments that _Peter tasted like chocolate_ and the barking in his head had stopped and that holy shit, Peter tasted like chocolate and it mixed so damn well with the coffee still on Tony’s tongue. 

The coffee that was being licked _off_ in Peter's astonishingly filthy kiss. 

He tried to find the names for the flavors he was just thinking about but it was like Peter had just plunged him underwater and the only way out was by getting more of Peter’s delicious mouth. Tony didn't want to get out. Shit. That was the first time Tony thought about being underwater as a good thing. The wet sound reached his ears and an electric thrill raced down his spine at it’s erotic implications.

He didn’t try to analyze it. Multiple factors popped up, like how he was half off his stool with a hand clutching at Peter’s t-shirt, like how Peter’s hand was in his hair, like how Tony moaned when Peter tugged at it in a gentle test. 

With a bewildered gasp Tony tried to stop the other man from pulling away but Peter had gently tugged Tony’s fingers from his shirt and Peter was strong and… Tony opened his eyes with a dazed look of awe. 

Peter had the ability to crush him into something resembling applesauce, but his hands had been careful and had felt feather light.

Tony looked up from staring at Peter’s hand when he realized the other man called his name. “I was kinda thinking that we should do this more often.” Tony nodded jerkily. Whatever the hell just happened, it had to happen again. “But maybe you should go to bed now.” Wait, no. Back up, more kissing, right the shit now.

Peter must have been psychic, or he couldn’t get enough of Tony, or he’d seen his brow furrow in displeasure because the next kiss was quick and rough but still rocked him in his shoes.

Peter pulled away again, breathless this time and his face was a little confused. “Wait, I thought you had something to do.”

That’s right, he’d even argued with Peter about it. It had been urgent. Tony felt like he was drunk. He stood up properly on wobbly legs and considered for a moment staring at Peter.

“I…” What was he going to say? Tony looked around for help but the other Avengers seemed frozen and dumbstruck and he couldn’t quite intake the information anyway. “I think I should go…” It had been important. “I was going to…”

“You were gonna go to bed, Tony.” His smile was a few parts patient, a little amused and a full half satisfied.

Data processing. Squirrels. Yankee Doodle came to town...

Tony turned, phone somehow in his hand and clutched to his chest. “Right.” He looked around for the elevator like it had moved to a different location on the floor. “Bed.” He took a few steps and then looked back to make sure Jude Law still wasn’t in the kitchen, but no. Peter was smiling smugly, like he was proud of himself so Tony looked at Sam’s cereal again because Peter was doing the not-Peter stuff again. Except he couldn’t read the name at this distance anymore and he realized from Peter’s laugh that he’d automatically its name aloud again. 

Shit. “Sleep.” He said it like it was the answer of a stupidly simple puzzle that had stumped him. Because it was but what had the puzzle been about?

He turned around and ambled to the elevator, waited for Jarvis to bring it up.

 _I was kinda thinking that we should do this more often._

Tony turned and looked again at Peter. It seemed like he was doing his best to be causal and sure, it was working, but every eye in the room was on him like he was dancing the macarena in his underpants, even Natasha looked wigged out.

Fuck.

_I was kinda thinking that we should do this more often._

“Oh, my God.” His voice was rough with the realization of exactly what he had just done and what he had agreed to. The table’s bobbing heads turned to look at him. He probably had the same thunderstruck look they did.

Peter just smiled at Tony and Tony didn’t realize he had grinned back until he caught his reflection in the elevator. 

He fucking _loved_ Thursdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's even better because he forgot about the coffee.
> 
> The product of a sleepless night. Is this fluff? I have no idea.
> 
> I have another fic in the works that might be a series but not this relationship though.
> 
> It may have potential, but ... anyone have plot monkeys to spare?
> 
> The Deadpool cup is real (I own one) and can be bought online but I made up Bucky's cup and if anyone knows an artist who can make it happen, please let me know. I like female Marines, sue me. Wait. No. Don't do that.
> 
> Also, points if you see the Red vs Blue reference!


	2. I was kinda thinking we should do this more often.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony needs to get a fucking grip.  
> ___________  
> 
> 
> 9:22 am.  
> 
> 
> “Jarvis, make reservations for two at that Chinese place in Manhattan.”  
> 
> 
> ”It would be my pleasure to make reservations at ‘that Chinese place’, would you also like me to send an invitation to ‘this one person, from the other day?”  
> 
> 
> Tony was too distracted to take note of the attitude. “Hmm, yes. Thank you, Jarvis.” Tony paused. “Well, no. I’m texting him now. Seven thirty, tomorrow.”  
> 
> 
> He had fucking moaned when Peter had tugged his hair.  
> 
> 
> “Jesus.” Just the thought of that sent a blasphemous pulse through his cock. He deleted the text and dragged a hand through his hair. “Make it for tonight.”

"Fuck." He needed to change the climate controls in his bedroom. It was like waking up in a broiling sauna sometimes.

“Sir. It is Friday the 18th of March. It is currently two twelve in the morning." Jarvis had zero business sounding so chipper.

Tony grunted a thanks and shifted in the bed for a moment before his lethargic hands grasped the lip of the cover that kept his arc reactor from showing too much light during the night. His hands felt sluggish and heavy but he managed to pry the lid off and basked in the glow emanating from his chest.

He almost felt like reaching between his legs for the familiar morning greeting but it called for too much energy at the moment. 

Maybe. 

At least he'd had a delicious dream to tug it to.

Tony’s hand barely passed his navel before he stilled.

Delicious dream...

“Corn Pops.” Even in a croaking whisper, the meaning of it drummed heavily in the air. 

It wasn’t a dream.

And fuck, if his dick twitched at those two words, breakfast was going to be awkward for a while.

He rolled from his back to his right side, away from the wall of windows and the nighttime cityscape.

It wasn’t a hallucination either.

Tony stared into the darkness of his room and tried to keep focus on the previous morning. Replaying what he remembered with as sharp an eye as he could. It only sort of worked. 

He spent most of the time biting the inside of his mouth, Peter had tasted so fucking good.

°°° _Clutching onto the soft fabric desperately. Peter_ biting _his lower lip. Fingers twisting tightly, loosening the weave with the strength of his grip._ °°°

Tony flexed his fingers and watched them with wide eyes. 

_God **damnit**_

With several hours of sleep, he recognized that he had been manipulated into going to bed, but if he was being honest, he really didn’t care. 

Because Peter was scrumptious and Tony wanted more. He wanted to do terrible, sinful things to Peter and cackle evilly about it.

Tony glanced back at the clock. 

2:17 am. 

Maybe at a time that other people would appreciate.

Or, he could… Tony racked his brain to finish that trail of thought and gave up. His hard-on hadn’t subsided, but he ignored it anyway.

Peter had taken the initiative. Shy, clever Peter. 

More like sly, cunning Peter.

The kid had probably been plotting this for a while. 

In his head, Imagination-Peter wore an over sized lab coat, giant goggles and was laughing to himself uncontrollably. 

He rolled lazily over his bed three times, just because he could and it was big enough. 

Face down, he blinked slowly and tried to stay in bed a few more minutes. He needed to make a plan, some sort of plan. A plan of attack or seduction or something. Peter had made the first move and now it was Tony’s turn. Turn to do what though? He’d known Peter for just over four years now and the one thing that he knew very well was that Peter worked almost more than Tony did.

He buried his face further into his fluffy pillow, mind running through several ideas on what to do with Peter and °°° _Peter whispering 'look at me'°°°_ throwing them away almost as soon as they popped up.

_°°°Fingers in his hair.°°°_

He rolled to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over to sit up, his chest relieved to be free of his body’s weight but his lower body taught and annoyed.

Ok, shower, jerk off, dress, check on the cable results, celebrate success and pull something together for Pepper’s presentation at ten.

He nodded in an unsatisfied manner as he adjusted himself in his boxers.

A distraction. That’s what he needed right now. If Peter kept wanting to be weird, the kid (geez, stop _thinking_ that, he was an adult now) would just have to find Tony.

The genius was going to be very busy for the next couple of days.

He paused and snatched his Stark-pad from under his pillow to go over his schedule.

Or not busy.

The engineer tossed the tablet back on the bed and pushed up to go shower.

This would probably be a good time to look over Pym’s new plans for his Big House.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Tony peered anxiously at the small titanium star. It looked nice, a faux diamond carefully set on its left arm and strung on a short chain would look lovely on Natasha’s neck. He should be pleased at his handiwork.

He gulped instead and set it next to the matching dangling earrings and bangle bracelet on his work table. The earrings each held two smaller stars and a crescent moon and the bracelet was plain silver with a small harmless star.

They looked so pretty. And harmless. He twitched in a full body shudder and clicked his teeth at the jewelry.

It was really a shame that Nat was planning to shove the charms down someone’s gullet, each injected with a toxin she refused to show him.

Such a shame.

But _hell_ if he hadn’t been saving notes on other awesomely dangerous pieces of jewelry. Like the pale blue aster brooch that he had begun to design for Pepper, he would start out with a panic button first. He’d leave it ready to upgrade to a taser device if she let him.

And large green emeralds for Natasha. Because emerald starts with E, like explosions. 

Oh shit. A necklace of daisies. Tony chuckled lowly with a huff of mildly sadistic glee. It would be easier if they were liquid or something more like a gel, maybe Bruce would help.

Because really, ‘ _Daisy-chain_ ’.

Cufflinks for the male Avengers and if Clint ever wore the suit Tony was thinking about making, he would be able to test out his cloaking tech on civilian clothing. He avoided thinking of the hours that Peter had put in working with him on it.

Tried to anyway.

Tony jotted down a note about clunky baubles as a bracelet with various toxic compounds as he pulled his phone close. 

9:22 am.

“Jarvis, make reservations for two at that Chinese place in Manhattan.”

”It would be my pleasure to make reservations at ‘that Chinese place’, would you also like me to send an invitation to ‘this one person, from the other day?” 

Tony was too distracted to take note of the attitude. “Hmm, yes. Thank you, Jarvis.” Tony paused. “Well, no. I’m texting him now. Seven thirty, tomorrow.” 

He had fucking moaned when Peter had tugged his hair. 

“Jesus.” Just the thought of that sent a blasphemous pulse through his cock. He deleted the text and dragged a hand through his hair. “Make it for tonight.” 

‘Or just skip everything and have him delivered to my room.’ He thought morosely. This was going to be the end of him.

”Very well, Sir. May I inquire as to which restaurant you would like the reservations for?” Jarvis seemed more tired than annoyed. Had he programmed him to do that or was it a new part of his ever-learning algorithm?

Did Peter even have a suit to wear? 

“Haka-something. Libby mentioned it last week. Midtown.” Tony quickly pulled a recent body scan to get Peter’s measurements to his tailor and was pleased to note that they were the same height and the younger man was whip-cord lean.

Not that he hadn’t noticed yesterday, °°° _Fingers twisted in his shirt, pulling him in close._ °°°

A beep at his worktable preceded a hologram of Falcon’s fuel data. The projection displayed numbers that Tony absentmindedly appraised before forwarding them to Sam. The bird would probably like to go over the results before he altered the mixture like Tony had suggested. He made a face at the possibility of Sam not actually taking his advice. 

**Buzz**

**Buzz**

**Buzz**

Jeez. He smirked nervously at his steadily vibrating phone. Maybe texting Alex for a same-day outfit was a bad idea. 

It gave the impression that whipping up catwalk style wasn’t her job or something.

**Buzz**

**Buzz**

**Buzz**

He bit the bullet and spent the next twenty minutes spewing honey over the phone, verbally patting down her ruffled feathers and wrangled a pick-up time of six which was a little later than he had expected, but hey; begging and all that.

Tony wondered for a moment if the photo of his new Porsche was enough to convey the deep but crisp blue color he wanted on Peter.

Alex was pretty good, she’d probably make sure the color really popped.

It might even match the blue of Peter's eyes.

He drummed his fingers on the table, phone in between his hands. 

10:14 am.

Pepper’s meeting had started. 

Nat’s project was finished.

Sam had his data and Tony had already gotten the new fuel mixture back from the R&D team four floors down.

The new suggestion for the black webbing on the Spider-suit was waiting for Peter on his lab table with the additional recommendation of coating the cable with rubber. Villains had a penchant for electrocuting him.

He snatched his phone up and selected Peter’s icon. The image showed part of a larger picture from the day Bruce and Peter had (for some reason) tried to show Thor one of their projects. 

The fire and damage had been significantly more amusing with a soaked and foamed Peter protected (cradled) by a not-amused Hulk staring down a remorseful Norse hippie.

Might as well be upfront about this. _’You, me, snazzy dinner 7 tonight. Meet in foyer, I’ll drive.’_

“Jarvis, have Darcy do the pickup for his suit.”

”Should I also include breaking and entering onto her resume, Sir? I would assume you would like this gift to be awaiting Mr. Parker in his quarters?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mindreader. That’d be great.” A pause. “You really have to stop doing that J. Don’t put anything on her resume about this.”

The A.I. made an affirmative humming noise but otherwise remained silent.

He rested a hand on his jumping knee. ‘Keep busy’ was the mantra of the day.

Keep busy or burn to death from thinking too hard about _°°°sexy blue eyes lidded with pleasure, hot mouth, searching tongue, luscious smirk.°°°_

Clint’s sunglasses!

Tony quickly moved the Nat’s completed project pieces to a large square jewelry box and set it to the side of the workspace feeling jittery and twitchy. He'd find another box for her cable later.

Maybe a black box with a lovely red bow and a card. 'Happy assassinating.'

"Alright, new project..." Otherwise he was going to go insane.

His condo in Palm Beach for a drink or six.

Clint’s hearing aid sometimes hindered his ability to distinguish everyday noise from the regular comm chatter. If he could project a read-out onto Clint’s lenses, Jarvis could transcribe the audio with a delay of maybe five deciseconds.

The main device would have to be secured to the archer’s quiver and transmit data packets wirelessly to a receiver in the earpieces. 

If it wasn’t a distraction, (Tony thought of all of the data his heads up display was constantly bombarding him with) maybe he could add extra features. Like temperature, that would have been useful during last summer’s heat wave and Clint’s bio-foam had been more jelly than foam. Batroc had been caught regardless, but only because Steve had managed to knock the idiot out in time.

He altered the traditional orangey-yellow of a sharpshooting lens to a darker lavender so the read-out was legible.

“This is gonna be freaking great!” 

Well, that’s if Clint would even wear them. He was funny about accepting Tony’s gifts sometimes.

Even as he finished the thought, his plans for the new glasses was all but complete. The engineer made an effort to slow his hands down.

Being a genius was boring.

He needed to ask Sam how his vampire plan was working out.

**Buzz** _’What if I’ve got plans for tonight?’_

Tony guffawed and sent three messages in quick succession.

_'Impossible because 1: You only stalk yourself on Fridays.'_

_'2: You have no social life.’_

_'3: Chinese food.'_

**Buzz** The response was almost immediate. _’Ouch, ouch and YES.'_

Too easy. _’Yes, the truth does hurt.’_ He smiled. _’Don't worry, I'll make you forget all about it.’_

He tried to convince himself that it wasn't his heart that was thumping madly in his chest as he waited for the response.

**Buzz** _’Where are we going?’_

This was… exciting, not awkward.

Tony stared down at his phone and tried to remember why he had locked himself in the lab all morning.

He thought of Steve’s face when Peter had whispered into Tony’s ear.

_°°°Sometimes I want to put my hands in your hair and lick your neck just to see if you’ll stop.°°°_

How shocked the team had been at the kiss. 

How frightened and turned on _he_ had been.

Tony shifted uncomfortably. 

Had he been scared?

Peter was almost half his age, the team's rookie and a genius himself.

What if the younger man got bored of him?

Why did that even matter? How long would Peter's infatuation last?

He was kind of terrible at any sort of relationship. The last time Tony had dated was over two years ago when Pepper had grabbed him by the lapels decked him for coming home with a few new scars and a broken leg.

Peter was a superhero too, he'd be able to handle that part of his life on the long term at least.

But this...

He tapped a finger on the phone with one hand and ran the other over his face.

He was excited in a way that he hadn't felt in a while.

'Years', his mind helpfully supplied.

Tony was more familiar with one night stands. Long term relationships were strange and so very vague on the rules of the game.

**Buzz** _'Tony?'_ Peter had been patient for a good few minutes. 

**Buzz** _'Bump'_

He thought about the amazing kiss and the looks Peter had given him.

How pleased he had felt. The curl of satisfaction in his belly.

For the life of him, Tony didn't think there was anyone he could talk to about this at the moment. Not with Pepper as his last failed relationship and Rhodey somewhere in Japan for some joint international training.

Actually, Rhodey would totally answer and be way too happy that Tony was tripping over himself about this. Probably a little weirded out about Peter. To be fair, he had joined the team while he was still in high school.

Tony clapped his hands to his face with a little more force than necessary. 

_Son of a **Bitch** ,_ most of the team still treated Peter like a teenager.

If he sat back and thought about it, this could probably be a Bad Idea.

Fuck it.

Tony was excited and smiling and fucking smitten.

Instead, he grinned like a fool through his fingers at the phone’s screen before picking it up. _’Don’t you worry your fluffy head, just show up and be sexy.’_

Friday’s were great for Bad Ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1 second = 10 deciseconds) So really, he was being obnoxious.
> 
> You 'bump' a thread to keep it going


	3. Open mouth, Insert foot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s still Friday and Tony is a little pissed, a little flustered, and really just wants to take a break today.

Fuck.

Fuck this day.

Tony glared fiercely at the data scrolling down his Starkpad and cursed it in French before trying out a few other languages. 

He settled on German.

Several stabs on the glass with his fingers later, he reverted to English again.

Woo-fucking-saaah.

In all fairness, this was a totally serious emergency, someone or something was causing violent surges in the Northeast power grid over loading the systems in an unpredictable pattern. Some towns were already without power but the larger cities were faring better if only by just barely. Tony was willing to bet the current problem had also had an hand in the new fail safe systems that safeguarded the cities power much like the response after the great blackout of 2003.

Because really, when a being like Electro could throw electricity around laying waste to wherever he appeared, why _wouldn’t_ you implement a quarantine protocol for your town’s electrical grid? 

It was too early to be sure, even if the ‘problem’ had been discovered several days ago. SHIELD had only recently decided to involve the Avengers so Tony was currently embroiled in his task of identifying if a hack or Electro was at fault. 

Instead of on his date.

With Peter.

Because recently meant 'half an hour after the pair had left the tower'.

It wasn’t like SHIELD had an army of hand picked spy-techs or anything.

It wasn’t like they had been ten minutes from the restaurant when Phil had called them back. 

Alright, so Tony had ignored the request until Peter used some sort of Peter-logic to get him to turn around. 

Same difference.

Also: Peter-logic was dirty and... and some sort of mind control.

He resisted the urge to take the tablet in both hands and shake its circuitry loose as a fresh burst of anger oozed through him. 

There had been no incidents for well over _two_ months and a full _seven_ months since the entire team had been activated. 

Where was the justice in the world? 

‘Oh no Tony, there was absolutely no one else on this side of the state to able identify and trace problem areas.’ He nattered to himself mentally. 'SHIELD didn't have its own electrical engineers, much less technicians.' Useless! 

How hard was it to locate abnormal fluctuations in the ingress and egress of electrical flow? Hint: _abnormal_ , or (ta-da!) explosions and fire. He flicked a hand around in displeasure, the limb visually verbalizing his internal turmoil. All the Stark tech that he had put at SHIELD’s disposal and they still needed him to think for them. He was certain they were playing dumb. Tony just couldn't figure out why.

Screw it. He’d add ‘electrician’ for this bill too. 

It would take Jarvis another five minutes max to locate the center of the problem and another two to diagnose what exactly was going on. Tony paused and glared about the lab, trying not to be pissed with the minimal amount of work he had needed to exert. He could have done this on his phone _at the restaurant_. 

He hadn’t been out of the tower in _weeks_ and the crisp taste of the autumn air had set Tony into practically radiating restlessness. What angle were they playing?

“Jarvis, send me a beep when you finish. Where’s Peter?” He smoothed his suit jacket over a chair and adjusted his vibrant red silken tie absently, reviewing new information on a wall screen, only partially focusing on the words. 

Maybe his date would be interested in taking a late night out, there was a plethora of lounges and restaurants that catered to New York’s children of the night. 

“He is currently ‘hanging out’ on the common floor, Sir.” Jarvis managed to sound nonchalant about it, but Tony felt his blood pressure spike. That certainly meant that Peter had changed out of his salacious suit. It had fit him like a particularly delicate wrapper that Tony wanted to peel off _slowly_.

Sonofabitch.

He looked over to the wall of windows and felt his eye twitch. Dine in? 

No. What had that last data stream said?

He turned his attention to the wall monitor again and mimed grabbing at it, pulling the image out in hologram form and blowing up several troubling strands of information.

Not a digital attack and not Electro but definitely an entity physically interfering with… 

Tony tilted his head. 

What in the bejeezus was it doing? 

With a totally unnecessary flourish, he input the data into a graph measuring energy consumed over the period of forty hours and stared at it, flabbergasted and grudgingly amazed.

The pattern had started in Canada and it looked like the thing was ‘feeding’. 

Fascinating. 

The push-pull was completely random because it was taking energy from any available source and _capturing_ the flow, then _dragging_ it behind like a snack. Blowing transformers and jumping through active and inactive lines as it pleased. Take _that_ Ohm. 

Yea, it’s beautiful, but get your head in the game, Tony. The thing was devouring and trapping energy with alarming randomness and left a trail of melted, twisted (outdated) destruction behind it.

He tugged the cuffs of his blouse loose and quickly skittered a stool closer. “Get Bruce and Peter to look at this and bring up Merida’s new toy.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“Wait, just how is this going to work? Won’t it blow his head off?” Clint stared at the tip of the arrow like it would electrocute him.

Which, granted; it would. 

A little. 

Like the sun was a _little_ hot.

Or like Spiderman seemed a _bit_ annoyed. 

Actually, Peter seemed like he was about to blow a gasket and Bruce nodded alongside him in mild disapproval. “Exactly my point.” Peter waved his hands in the air furiously. Tony smiled at the way the younger man’s brows were twitching, his face active beneath his mask and presumably adorably angry. “We could end up killing it.” 

He tried _really_ hard not to correlate this to the time Peter and Bucky had rescued three dogs in the middle of a fight with the Wrecking Crew, but he couldn’t suppress a rumbling laugh. It was a little endearing, but Tony really had no intention of actually killing it. The only reason he was even suited up was to assess the situation in person and determine an appropriate course of action.

SHIELD, however, had been trying to get the situation under control for three days using their typical methods; force and denial. How they hadn’t considered an EMP was beyond him and he was now thoroughly convinced that something larger was at play. If it was made of electricity or used it to function, the only logical thing to do was to stop the energy source. 

Or blow it up. Tony had done some rather tedious number crunching though, and he was quite certain that while the thing wouldn’t explode, it would be down for the count. 

Siesta of the century. 

Out like a light. He felt his grin stretch smugly at the phrase. 

Oh, shit. Peter had stiffened at the laugh and was facing him, but the oversized, silvery eyes said nothing that Tony could understand.

Several dozen ideas popped into his head that would ease Peter’s concern’s about the situation, but Tony realized that he had hesitated too long when the younger man turned his attention to Hawkeye without acknowledging him.

Did this mean he had missed his chance? Did he even have one in the first place or was it a young man's infatuation?

Damnit, he couldn’t do _this_ right either, could he? The genius wasn't even sure about the level of interest he had about Peter. 

He quickly evaluated himself. 

It was something above carnal interest, he decided. Was massive curiosity mixed with lust a thing? 

It probably was. 

He recited a piece of Jarvis' code to himself as he felt several inquisitive stares observing his behavior with Peter and pulled himself together.

Conceal, don’t feel, Tony.

Hakuna Matata, Tony.

He let his gaze flit away from Peter’s masked face and took in Clint’s annoyed expression with a mild feeling of apprehension. The archer raised a finger to the younger man in protest and Tony held his breath. 

Clint hesitated long enough to frown as seriously as he could. “But, didn’t you do the same thing to Electro that one time?” 

Vindication? He managed to keep his face appropriately dour and twitched his gaze to examine his gauntlet.

Ok, it was Clint, but whatever he’d take it, Tony still wasn’t sure how to deal with this new… dynamic with Peter. 

Play it cool, Tony.

“That’s right.” He relaxed into the sofa and spread his armored arms over the top of it. “Didn’t you feed him enough juice to make him explode once?” 

Nope, wrong move genius. 

Peter’s mask managed to scowl frighteningly and he took an aggressive step forward. Which, Peter on the ground should have been Tony’s first warning to ease up on teasing. “I was new at this, by myself, and didn’t have time for a plan.” 

He shrugged and looked away again, struggling to maintain an impassive facade.. “The pulse is localized, barely more than a hundred yards.” Where was the ‘get out of jail free’ card for things like this? “Whatever this thing is, it’s been feeding for days and it’s just getting bigger. If Fury’s flunkies haven’t worked something up by the time the rest of the team gets there, this _is_ the plan.” Well, half of it. Depending on if Bruce and Peter had been able to get the other half working. Just in case they didn’t manage to shut it down with the EMP.

“We should try out the grounding cables first.” Peter insisted again and this time no one bothered to argue, it would be a decision made on the fly and the young Avenger had enough experience by now to know it.

“Tony, what about your suit?” Steve had ignored most of the argument but he was also frowning thoughtfully at the arrow.

“Not a problem. I’ve got the latest in interference suppressors.” He rapped a metal knuckle on the chestplate to mask the urge to frown. He was somehow annoyed that Steve had worried about Tony being near an EMP. At least someone cared about his ticker, but did Cap even know how EMPs worked? 

A short, tinny alarm rang from the entertainment centers speakers and they turned as one to the TV, watching a camera drop out of the ceiling on a pole to transmit to the helicarrier as the screen on the wall beyond it flicked on.

“Nick, sweetheart, _wonderful_ to see you _again_. Plotting any new takeovers today?” Tony mentally fist pumped at the angry nostril flare he’d gotten, not quite over the mandatory psych sessions the man had, uh, mandated.

Fury locked eyes with Steve and bored into him with an intensity that snapped the Cap’s spine straight. “The creature has been making its way to New York-”

“Since yesterday morning, yea we know.” Tony bit at the sudden spark of needing to say something about the eye patch or his shiny cue-ball head. “Well, we know now. Agent took half the team to intercept. The question is: how long have you known about hungry-hungry Thor-eating-monster-thing?” Tony skillfully avoided smirking when Clint sputtered a laugh at his sass.

Fury’s lip curled slightly but he ignored the interruption. “And the Independent System Operator has given us an ETA of about an hour before it crosses the George Washington bridge.” He glared around the room. “I want the rest of you to get to it’s location ASAP and back up my team.”

Tony let the talking head yammer on and tapped on the back of the couch with a finger thoughtfully, joints whirring quietly as he reviewed his information. Tony had figured it would rest at a power production plant and just sit there enjoying an endless dinner, this would have been logical behavior for a creature just needing to eat, but it had bypassed multiple power sources. So not mindless and yet, still illogical. Tony had no hope of figuring out its intentions. 

He glanced at the massive screen and watched Fury's mouth move, a distant ‘blah blah blargity blah’ at the edge of his concentration. Trying to ignore Fury completely was futile, Tony was processing the words anyway. 

No one was reporting any sightings of anything bizarre or out of place, and Tony had somewhat been banking on it but, no dice. The conclusion that sprang up was that the creature wasn’t visible to the naked eye. Tony took a moment to gauge what frequency he would need but decided that the thermal devices SHIELD used would suffice. He glanced around the room surreptitiously, anything more complex and he just _knew_ Sam would be the only one to keep his equipment intact. Maybe Natasha.

“Sir, Agent Barnes requests that the team, turn their earpieces on’.” Tony jerked at the sound of the AI’s voice and darted his eyes around the room to see if they had noticed him zoning out. Peter may have been looking at him sidelong, but with those bug eyes, Tony couldn’t be sure.

He snatched up his helmet from the cushion next to him and jammed it over his head, a slight tension leaving his shoulders as he heard the latching mechanisms fully expand to encase his head and complete the connection to the rest of the suit as his face plate snapped down.

Steve said something placating to Fury, cut the call off, and tapped his ear. “Buck, this is Captain America. What’s the situation?” He made his way across the room quickly, hand slicing in the direction of the quinjet like a knife, silently ordering departure.

Bucky’s comm crackled rather loudly as he responded. “ _Shitty. One of the techs ran into something. She’s a little crispy._ ” Creepy fact number two about Bucky; he was a little dark with his humor. Steve had been thrown by it at first and now actively avoided acknowledging it. “ _We cleared the area, but Thor’s wandering around where she got zapped. Says he smells something._ ”

It was probably the smell of ozone, Tony thought, exchanging a glance with Bruce. Or barbecued agent. 

Steve turned around on helipad his long legs almost having teleported him there, pumping his arm up and down repeatedly as he clenched his fist in the air, elbow bent at ninety degrees. Tony rolled his eyes at the military hand sign for ‘hurry up’, then sighed loudly when he remembered he was wearing his helmet, making sure everyone heard him.

“Tell them to switch to thermal imaging.” He heaved the suit upright and clunked after Bruce, all excitement for the day effectively dashed into a ditch. 

“What about SHIELDs plan?” Steve asked the comm, referring to the idea of physically severing connections instead of just shutting off the power to lock the thing in one place.

“ _The techs are scraping some… thing together, but Phil says it hasn’t moved._ ” The static was getting louder.

“So it worked.” Steve sounded relieved and frustrated as the hatch closed behind Bruce. “We’re on our way, estimated-” He looked up at the cockpit where Clint held up the sign for ‘O’ without looking back. “Ten mikes. Keep me updated.” 

Tony was mildly confused. When had they decided that ASL ‘O’ meant 10? Maybe it was another military sign. Also, why was the entire team required?

He reclined in one of the swiveling chairs, main Heads Up Display screen on the now empty refreshment cabinet and one smaller screen on Peter sticking to the ceiling above the empty seat next to Clint, not sure which one bothered him more. That he had no idea what to say to the man or that his immediate desire was to lubricate his Avenger’s interactions with alcohol. 

He felt relieved that the armor had masked the ‘there and gone’ tremor in his hands.

Date night was effectively, a bust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-wrote this maybe five times and I have no idea where this fic is taking me. 
> 
> I might just call this a run-away train wreck.  
> \---------------------  
> July 6 2015 Update: Just on a bit of a hiatus, I've lost my muse for this one.


	4. Whisky Tango Foxtrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is done with this shit... and really squicked out... kind of... maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supremely sorry for the wait my fellow fangeeks, this little peice has been vegging in my old emails and after a few (many) re-writes, I said fuck-it and uh, here you go.

Tony stabilized himself midair, adjusting the thrust to rise slowly to get a better view of the city. 

The glare from the late Saturday morning sun was almost too much for the sight to be enjoyable but New York was stunning in any light. 

Jarvis was saying something in his ear but Tony moved his wrist slightly, his entire focus on the heads-up display as he gently rotated himself 180 degrees to gaze at the destruction of two city blocks. 

At some point during the night operation, SHIELD’s _manhunt_ had gotten out of hand when their quarry had given up running and decided to fight back in desperation. 

Tony glared at the dark figures below, SHIELD agents combing through the rubble for who-knew-what while the armored vehicle that held three skinny, frightened children almost looked like a writhing ant hill with the obnoxious amount of security personnel. It was almost understandable since the pre-teens had killed two agents and injured almost two dozen more. Most had been treated on-site but Tony’s eyes followed a separate chopper lifting off with its cargo of gravely wounded.

A few years ago, Tony would have tried to talk some sense into whatever badge had led the charge for Fury but then, a few years ago, he wouldn’t have let SHELD rush him into a job without their full disclosure. His eyes felt like they would burn like lasers through the metal of the armored vehicle, so he blinked a few times to wet his eyes again, his perfect memory mostly picturing the dusky skinned boy that fed on electricity. Brain agents had strapped him to some sort of battery device after they wrapped him in a rubber... _thing_ that looked uncomfortably like a body bag. 

The smaller… boy? Girl? 

Tony wasn’t too sure about the gender of the albino child but their hands had been wrapped in a black bag to prevent him/her from ‘pulling’ the ground up to hide them again. The other boy had seemed normal but the engineer thought back again at the way burly agents in riot gear had yanked him from where he’d fallen in the rubble and Tony decided that the relieved sigh that had escaped the overseeing agent was merited.

His suit was slowly gaining altitude to the point that his sensors could scarcely pick up their chatter-not that he was really listening anyway. 

Nope. 

Fuck them.

Fuck this.

With a few quick gestures he rotated himself in the direction of Avengers Tower and launched onto the flightpath with a roar of his thrusters. There had to be something he could do to get his mind away from this.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

There was no getting away from it.

It was like a mini movie in his head, the mental clip on an endless rotation in his mind's eye. Tony focused on the barbells in his hands - the struggling child in the body-bag was -

Stoooop it. Not your problem anymore.

He pushed out another five alternating repetitions, struggling to keep his form as perfect as Nat had taught him to do. 

_Twelve projects on the books, two in practical development, three in testing…._

Used the break to chug half his water.

Regretted drinking so much when he started his next set on the leg press, hands holding onto the side bars for dear life. 

Regretted adding so much weight to the leg press machine. 

Throughout his workout, Tony kept his eyes on the screens closest to his person as schematics of Hank Pym’s ‘Big House’ followed him around the weight room intelligently. He’d originally laughed at the proposal when SHIELD had brought him in as a consultant but the idea -- now fully fledged and developed -- was (almost) brilliant. The purpose of the Big House was to imprison criminal superhumans and (laughably) to help rehabilitate them on a helicarrier in a shrunken state. 

Like a damn ant farm.

While he’d initially developed a significant portion of the security system, Tony’s recent contributions only amounted to permissions (and occasionally denials) of several of his inventions. Pym’s design was ready to break ground the moment it was cleared for funding. 

Sitting straight-backed at the next station, he concentrated on the lat machine’s bar, hating himself for being unable to smoothly pull it down. 

Tony imagined Clint’s smug face as the Bicep Beast had casually pulled more than Tony’s weight on the rowing machine several weeks ago. He’d only been doing warm-ups before ground grappling with Bucky. 

From the corner of his eye, he noted that Peter had slunk into the weight room and hesitated at the door, shaggy hair dark with damp and hands shyly tucked into the front pockets of his snug jeans.

The genius ignored him and prayed his lats not to fail him. 

_Pull_

 Hold.

 Ease up.

_Pull_

Hold.

Ease up. 

Two more!

_Pull_

Hold. …

…

Peter was approaching with a very intent look on his face?

Yes.

Peter. Intent. Getting closer. Period. 

Tony inhaled a deep breath of air and eased the bar back up as Peter stood near his elbow watching Tony’s hands inch upwards.

One. More.

His skin chilled and then warmed a bit when Peter slid a hand out of a pocket and reached for the bar.

One… more...

Peter lightly placed his index finger on the bottom of the bar, dead center between Tony’s hands and held it there.

The younger man smiled down at him, wet his lips and murmured. “Keep going Tony.”

Brooding. He was supposed to be brooding through his workout. 

Smart Tony knew that the last rep would be like trying to tip over a grown oak tree with a Tonka Truck. The base human inside Smart Tony had a very strong desire to pull anyway and marvel at the way Peter’s arm would barely budge at the force. Base Tony was not in charge though, Smart Tony was … referring to himself in a multiple… what the fuck.

Instead of testing the immovable properties of a stunning spider, he released the bar to its resting position and glared up at the brunette, mind ready to guard itself from Peter-logic. Every time they’d had a difference of opinion Peter would always come out on top, the phenomena was infuriating and (privately) humbling.

Peter dropped his hand with a wry smile, as though he had wanted to watch Tony exert himself trying to move the pillar of his super-strong finger. “You left before debrief. I just wanted to see if you were alright.” His eyes dropped to Tony’s collar bone. “Jarvis said you weren’t even responding to him.” His eyes traced the path of a bead of sweat as it ran down Tony’s neck and the older man firmly ignored that Peter was tilting his face closer and kept making a very slight snuffling sound. 

Mental yellow crayon flashcard popped up: _‘super smelling’_. 

Uh, ew? Possibly?

Tony consciously moved further back on the bench and cast an arm out for his towel. “Really don’t wanna talk about it Pete, G-men keep jerking us around and I’m super not ok with it.” 

What an understatement, if the press ever found out the Avengers helped corner children they would look like vicious dogs ripping into and through the lives of children -- regardless of how dangerous they might be.

He swiped his face and neck vigorously before digging into the hair at the nape of his neck to soak up two hours worth of sweat, disgusted when it proved inadequate for the job. He hardly remembered getting back and getting out of the suit before stomping to the training floor to work out his anger much less what he said when Jarvis had first notified him that Coulson had tried to get Tony in for post-ops. 

The younger man hadn’t moved and Tony avoided giving him his full attention. “We shouldn't've been called in. Wrangling kids is not our job.” He moved the towel higher up over his head and left it there, slumping forward. “Any one of us could’ve killed them. Xavier is the one who does this kind of stuff.”

What if Thor had tried luring them out with a lightning storm? Charred little bodies, that's what. Tony’s mind ran through several scenarios of the ways the children might have died at the hands of the Avengers and shuddered.

“Let’s hope to god the papers don’t get ahold of this.” If anyone knew how terrible that would be, it was Peter. 

Peter who had become a mute in the last minute. Tony tugged the towel off his head and frowned up at the younger man who was currently channeling a very sexy mannequin.

“What’re you looking at?” Tony leaned back again to make an assessment of the younger man and was once again at a loss of how to respond., risking a look up. 

Pupils: dilated. Curiosity: low. [No Data]: extremely high.

Peter parted his lips in a small pant before his tongue darted out to wet them. “Shower.” 

Evaluate: [No Data] similar to arousal in interested parties. 

Conclusion: [No Data] amended to Lust.

The mannequin took a shaky step back and licked his lips again. “Take a shower and take me out to lunch.” He swiped a hand through his hair in a familiar motion of embarrassment. “I’ll let Cap know you’re not gonna want a brief and I’ll meet you on the communal floor when you’re ready.” 

“Hold on. No, you just did something weird -- are you-” Tony straightened his spine. “Are you sniffing me?” God, that’s weird, right? “Is that gonna be a thing for you?” Tony immediately thought of the various kinks he’d come across and wondered if he could handle Peter’s response.

Which… wasn’t really happening. The way Peter’s hips turned gave some suggestion that all was not exactly well but the younger man wrinkled his nose and in a very pained voice reminded Tony to meet him on the communal floor before he (very quickly) left to parts unknown. 

Alone with his towel, water, and schematics, Anthony Edward Stark resolved to find out what the actual fuck just happened and see if he could replicate it. Weird or not, Peter had definitely walked out the door with a stiffy that Tony was salivating to get at.

New Project: Make Spidey Jump My Bones was a go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I've been off-line for 4ever and I'm pretty sure this is gonna take a long time to finish so if there are ppl who would like to beta and/or throw me some ideas for this going-nowhere-slowly-trainwreck I would TOTALLY. APPRECIATE. YOU.


End file.
